


A Warning

by QuillMage



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Sherlock, Gen, Godstiel: Cas as God, Trickster!Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMage/pseuds/QuillMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft receives an unexpected visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warning

He placed the finished stack of papers to one side of his desk before freezing, feeling that something was very, very wrong.

“Mycroft Holmes.”

The voice resembled a distinctive one from the near past—two or three years, no more—but there was something else in it that just wasn’t right.

He looked up to see the instantly recognizable Castiel.

Except it wasn’t Castiel.

Mycroft needn’t have sensed the presence of souls of fellow tricksters no longer among the living; no, it was perfectly clear from new majestic air and aura of sheer power radiating from Castiel just what the angel had basically become.

Mycroft resisted the urge to swallow thickly, “Your godliness.” He replied with a tone holding the slightest bit of dryness but was not disrespectful as he gave Castiel a nod similar to what he would have given Loki but his shoulders tilted down a bit as well.

Castiel seemed somewhat amused by this. At the same time, Mycroft was acknowledging Castiel possessing more power than the tricksters’ own patron deity and by utilizing a gesture similar to the one used when confronted with the Trickster God, Mycroft was also acknowledging Castiel to be a higher god than Gabriel.

“To what do I owe this pleasure and honor?”

“There are multiple reasons, not in the least with who you hold relations to.” Castiel causally ran his fingers along the back of the chair in front of Mycroft’s desk; Mycroft did not show a reaction to what looked like a burn on Castiel’s hand, “As you surmised, I have transcended my angelic limitations, I intend to right the ruin humans have wrought upon this Earth. After I repair the Winchesters’ home, I plan to move onto Asia and Africa. Europe is low on my priority list.”

Castiel’s gaze suddenly shifted up to lock onto Mycroft intensely, causing the trickster to stiffen.

“However, this can very swiftly change.” The threat seared the air, “I am not fool enough to believe the Winchesters will not protest to my reign; I slay no innocents but to cleanse the world, sacrifices must be made. They do not understand this. They will seek help in my demise from any source they possess. I believe you to be more prudent than they; a belief that, for the sake of you and your own, best be founded in truth.”

Castiel’s eyes calmed and he relaxed back into his serene state radiating power.

“You possess the sense of justice that comes natural to a trickster, however, you do not use deadly force unless necessary—the desire to bring what is due to those who evade the law without taking true vigilante action. What’s more, you were my elder brother’s confidante, Gabriel trusted you to keep secret information he should have by all rights wiped from your mind.”

Mycroft had always wondered about that; it was obvious to him that, despite how he acted, Loki held his status as archangel very close to the chest. Why Loki had allowed him to keep knowledge that was quite clearly a very dangerous secret for him had been one of the few things to baffle Mycroft. Loki was more than capable of removing the information from his mind, this Mycroft had always known. Perhaps it was because Loki knew Mycroft had no reason to use it against him, nor the desire to ever do so. Or because Loki may have known this day would come.

It struck Mycroft that Castiel’s words could also be interpreted as the reasons he does not strike Mycroft down in an experiment to see if a monster’s soul goes into Purgatory or himself—the reasons to spare the life of one from a race of those who could threaten the lives of the Winchesters.

“And of my brother?” Mycroft asked calmly despite being anything but such. This was always about the Winchesters and they had Sherlock’s number, not his own.

Mycroft’s fortitude and concern for his brother made Castiel tilt his head slightly with an amused smile.

Mycroft had witnessed the gesture before, however, this time it meant something completely different.

“Your brother was and is a great man, first as a hunter, now as a detective. Demon he may be, but I have interacted with him, as long as the downfall of James Moriarty is the extent of his desire for destruction, he may be allowed to continue on the condition that he not offer assistance or advice of any form on anything pertaining to the supernatural to the Winchesters, whether I am involved or not. The same holds true for his partner. An army doctor who only uses force as last resort, a Healer who has not allowed his Soldier consume him, it would be a pity to waste what has been so scarce for so long.”

The way the words were said worried Mycroft as they spoke of dark deeds recently committed. Castiel’s eyes hardened once more.

“Have I made myself clear, Mycroft Holmes?” The air was burning with promised wrath.

“I shall alert them of your message.”

Mycroft didn’t dare ponder on why Castiel would prohibit any advice that would assist the Winchesters on even one of their most mundane of hunts.

However, he was careless, having never been present for such an event—and due to the sheer amount of mental strain caused by this meeting—Mycroft’d forgotten his mind could be read.

Castiel gave him a dark smile and Mycroft had never witnessed anything so disconcerting.

“They need to learn there is only one place they can turn to for help. One must isolate disobedient pets from distraction if one wishes to retrain them to do as their master commands.”

Then Castiel disappeared without a sound and Mycroft shuddered once, left with a feeling that was more than a feeling—more than a universal fact—he’d just seen inside the darkest pits of Purgatory, where the bravest soul of the most reckless monster dare not tread for fear of what lies within.

Castiel’s eyes weren’t that of Castiel. They were the color of a lake so deep, the blue of its water had turned black with its depth; the lake only told about in stories—the Lake where true Sea Monsters lived.


End file.
